


Be Still My Foolish Heart

by elletopaz



Category: Good Omens (TV)
Genre: Declarations Of Love, First Kiss, Fluff and Angst, Friends to Lovers, Getting Together, Ineffable Husbands (Good Omens), Ineffable Idiots (Good Omens), Love Confessions, M/M, angst in that crowley is an anxious mess, but it's accurate so here we are, didn't think that would be a real tag, like kind of?, more like
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-10-04
Updated: 2019-10-04
Packaged: 2020-11-09 06:31:19
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,843
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20849045
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/elletopaz/pseuds/elletopaz
Summary: Let us consider eternity, in terms of what comes afterward.





	Be Still My Foolish Heart

Let us consider eternity. There’s a considerable amount to be said, much of it pertaining to birds and mountains and The Sound of Music. This is the eternity which, in a small bookshop in Soho, a demon is trying to explain to an angel. Both of them several glasses of wine in, the conversation has become blurred at the edges, winding and looping back around itself, and it’s a wonder that neither participant has lost the thread of it entirely. They will speak of eternity, and ultimately conclude that it is not something that either of them want to experience, if it can be avoided. Thus, a plot will be hatched, an apocalypse averted, and champagne will be toasted (at the Ritz, of course). But that is the story we already know. Let us consider eternity, in terms of what comes afterward.

“I s’pose I should drop you off at the bookshop then?” Crowley says, nonchalance written into every line of his body, coating every syllable he speaks. It’s a facade (he’s wound tighter than a corkscrew), one he’s sure Aziraphale can see right through, but he feels the need to put it up anyway. Retain some semblance of normalcy, as though they hadn’t just upended every convention their lives had been built upon for the last 6000 years. _Don’t go_, he wants to say. _I almost lost you_, he wants to say. _Don’t ever leave me alone again. Make a space for me in your life, a permanent one. I promise I won’t bother you. Let me curl up in some forgotten corner, some dusty old bookshelf. Not that you have any other kind. I won’t even speak to you, if that’s what you want. I just never want to be away from you ever again._

“I should like to see it...” Aziraphale replies, almost to himself. Then a thought appears to strike him, and he instantly brightens. “Perhaps you could come in for a drink, my dear.”

Crowley unwinds, all the tension of potentially having to leave the angel’s side gone in an instant. _Back to the same, then. Maybe that’s what we need right now. The routine we’re used to. Everything’s changed, but we get to stay the same. That’s good, isn’t it? Isn’t this what we were fighting to protect?_

“Sounds wonderful, angel.”

The drive is comfortable silence, which Crowley’s mind unfortunately takes as an invitation to wander. _You go too fast for me, Crowley. In these same seats, this very car, many years ago. Have you caught up? (I’ll wait for you forever, if need be.) So much of what we are has changed, what’s one more little detail? What’s love, in the face of the apocalypse?_ Well, everything, really, if Crowley were to truly be honest with himself about the matter. But honesty would have to wait, as Aziraphale was now breaking the silence.

“Crowley? Are you quite alright?”

“M’fine, angel. Just thinking.” _You don’t want this. After everything has been turned on its head, the least I can do is be your constant._

“You look rather worried, my dear boy. Are you sure you’re alright?”

“I’m sure, I’m sure. It’s just... it’s been a long couple of days.” _I cannot ruin this. I will not ruin this. I’ll be damned a hundred times over before I fuck this up for you. _

“Well, I can understand th-- oh!”

They had turned the corner and the bookshop was now in view. Aziraphale took it all in, then turned to Crowley, beaming.

“You were right, my dear. Not a smudge.”

Aziraphale is getting out of the car, walking up towards the bookshop, and Crowley finds himself paralyzed. _This is __where I lost you. We may have almost lost each other at the end, but here... I couldn’t feel you, and all there was was fire. They came for me, why wouldn’t they have come for you? What am I supposed to do with myself now I finally have you back for good? _

He’s shaking, his knuckles white on the steering wheel of the unmoving Bentley. _What the hell’s come over me?_ He had already been inside the remade bookshop, in order to keep up their masquerade as each other, and he had been fine then. Now, however, he can’t even bring himself to get out of the car. Without warning the tears come, entirely obscuring his vision. He doesn’t know how long he sits there before he feels a hand on his shoulder. He starts, blinking back tears to see Aziraphale, who has opened the car door and is looking at him with such a tender expression of concern that Crowley nearly melts.

“Crowley, my dear, what’s wrong?”

Crowley shook his head, “‘s nothing, angel. Really, I’m alright.” His voice is hoarse and shaky, and betrays him entirely.

“Dearest, after all we’ve been through the least you can do is be honest with me. Will you be alright inside? I rather think this conversation would be better had in private.”

Crowley nods, allowing Aziraphale to take his arm and lead him into the bookshop. _Dearest. That’s new. Did he even notice he said it? _

Soon they are seated, two steaming cups of tea on the table next to them, and Aziraphale looks at Crowley with a serious expression. He’s clearly still concerned, but there’s a severity behind it now, a determination that doesn’t often appear on the angel’s face.

“Now, my dear, please, tell me what’s wrong. You haven’t been yourself since we left the Ritz, and while I understand that we’ve been through a lot, I don't think that bottling everything up is the way to handle it.”

_Bottling it up isn’t the way to handle it? Angel, I’ve been bottling things up for 6000 years. Surely you can’t expect me to stop now. If I did, I think the pressure would be too much. I think I’d explode. _

“Angel, the only bottles we should be worrying about right now are those that contain ludicrously expensive wine,” Crowley’s voice is still rough from tears, but his trademark bravado had once again surfaced. “We’re supposed to be celebrating, so let’s celebrate!”

“Absolutely not. Not until I know what’s going on with you. My dear, how do you expect me to celebrate when I know you’re hurting?”

“Trust me, it’s alright. I promise you, you don’t want me to talk about it.”

“I can assure you that _I do_.”

“Angel, _please_\--”

“Crowley!”

_ He’s not going to let this go. Fine, angel. You win. You want me to wreck this night? You want me to ruin everything we have, everything we fought to keep? Fine. But don’t blame me when it all comes crashing down._

“Fine. You really want me to talk about it? Let’s talk about it,” Crowley snaps, though he’s more scared than angry. “I lost you, here in this bookshop, and I thought it was for good. I know there at the end we were both in danger of losing one another, but before all that I showed up at this blasted bookshop and found it in flames, and you were just...gone. I couldn’t sense you here, I couldn’t sense you anywhere on earth. Hell had just come for me, was it so unreasonable to think that they might’ve come for you too? Or maybe Heaven got sick of you and decided to take care of the matter permanently. Either way, you were gone, and-- and-- fuck, angel, I thought that was it. I thought I would never see you again. And it hurt, angel. It hurt. I couldn’t stop thinking about the fact that the last thing we ever did was fight. Never mind everything we’ve been through together, never mind that you’re pretty much the only person in the whole bloody universe that I can stand-- you were gone and I thought I’d never get to tell you...”

He trails off there, but Aziraphale says nothing. The tears have come back, and he can see them shining in Aziraphale’s eyes too. But the angel just waits expectantly. _Surely he knows what’s coming._

“Fucking hell, angel. I thought I’d never get to tell you that I love you. So, so much. More than anything in the whole goddamn world. You’re everything to me, you always have been, you always will be. I know this isn’t what you want, and I’m sorry, I really am. We fought for our normal lives back, we can keep them I swear. I’ll-- I’ll never bring it up again. Just-- please don’t cut me out. I lost you once already, I can't do it again.”

"Crowley..."

"Don't, angel. Please don't."

“Crowley.” It’s barely a whisper, and Aziraphale is standing. He crosses the room to Crowley’s chair, and kneels, as though in prayer.

“My dear, my dearest, my _love_... I'm so sorry.” 

He takes Crowley’s hands, kisses the knuckles, the palms, the wrists. He laces their fingers together, and looks up at Crowley. “This _is_ what I want, this is what I've wanted for so long--"

Crowley cuts him off, pulling the angel up into his lap and kissing him with 6000 years of desperation. Aziraphale's hands move upward, winding into Crowley's hair and tugging slightly. An involuntary moan escapes Crowley's lips as his hands began to explore the angel's body. _Go-Sa-somebody, angel-- you're so fucking attractive. As if I could be any more into to you than I already was._

Aziraphale breaks the kiss, resting his forehead on Crowley's. He's grinning like an idiot, an expression which Crowley is sure matches his own.

"Never thought I'd get to do that," Crowley says.

"Nor did I." 

"I love you, angel."

"Oh, Crowley. I love you too." 

Crowley wraps his arms around Aziraphale, pulling him closer. Aziraphale nuzzles his head into Crowley's neck.

"Crowley?"

"Mmh?"

"Kiss me again?"

Crowley happily obliges. 

This is what eternity is: All the way at the end of the universe, there is a mountain a mile high. Once every thousand years, a little bird flies to the mountain and sharpens its beak. When the bird has worn the mountain down to absolutely nothing, an angel and a demon will still be in love. They will wake up in their shared bed, in their shared house, on the Earth that they fought to protect so very long ago. They will cook, read, tend a garden. They will kiss, and smile at each other, and they will finally allow themselves to simply exist. The thought of forever, so unbearable once upon a time, now feels insignificant, dwarfed by the feeling of Crowley's hand in Aziraphale's. After all, what harm can eternity truly do, when they’re facing it side by side? The mountain is worn down to nothing, and Aziraphale finds Crowley in the darkness. Pulls him closer, holds him tighter. The mountain is worn down to nothing, and Crowley kisses the top of Aziraphale’s head as they drift into sleep. Aziraphale reciprocates with a press of lips to Crowley’s collarbone. The mountain is worn down to nothing, yet love endures.

**Author's Note:**

> in conclusion i am Soft
> 
> the first draft of this was written in a tired haze when i should've been doing homework and i'm shocked i actually got it to a point where i wanted to post it but yeah
> 
> title from hozier's "almost (sweet music)"
> 
> (also i can't believe my love for these two is so great that i actually started writing fanfic)
> 
> tumblr @ [panicvertig-o](https://panicvertig-o.tumblr.com/) / [ineffableflashbastard](https://ineffableflashbastard.tumblr.com/) (good omens side blog)
> 
> [check out my other good omens fics!](https://archiveofourown.org/users/elletopaz/works?fandom_id=27251507)
> 
> thanks for reading! :D


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